“What did you just tell me about keeping the past in the past?” Dad asks as he watches me. “Time to follow your own advice.”
“You’re right,” I reply, trying to shove my feelings back into their box, then change the subject. “What do I need to know to catch up for your class tomorrow?”
“We can start that after dinner,” he grins. “You have to focus.”
We finish eating then I load the dishes in the small dishwasher and start it running. When I finish, Dad is sitting on the couch waiting for me.
“There is no book for my class,” he starts as I sit down next to him. “I have the task of teaching you to control your gifts, so that you don’t accidentally cause an issue.”
“Like Becca trying to eat my memory this morning?” I ask.
“That wasn’t an accident. She decided you were a threat and thought she could take Tanner from your memories,” he explains. “Her jealousy was so toxic the principal had no choice but to delete you from her memories.”
“Then why was she still nasty to me at lunch?” I ask.
“Because that’s who she is. You standout and some people don't like those that don't fit their social norm. But don’t ever think you need to conform to someone else’s standards. You are perfect the way you are,” he explains.
“I wouldn’t want to change for some mean girl anyways. I love who I am,” I shrug. Why would people change just to try to get people to like them? At the end of the day, the only person who’s going to always be there is themselves.
“You are amazing,” he says, then clears his throat. “So now to talk about control. The first step is meditation. Finding that quiet place in your mind will help teach you focus. That’s the first step to finding control.”
“How do you do that?” I ask. “My mind never stops.”
“There are a few different methods. Some people use music, other’s need silence,” he explains. “We just have to find what works for you.”
“Silence is out. My thoughts spiral when it’s quiet,” I reply.
“Let’s try this,” he says as he pulls up Spotify.
He puts on instrumental music and tells me to cross my legs and close my eyes.
“Focus on the music. Inhale and exhale in time to the beat,” he instructs.
I do as he says, focusing on my breathing. Thoughts keep trying to creep in and I get distracted. I groan in frustration.
“It’s ok, Nikki. It takes practice to find the place we are looking for. It’s perfectly normal for it to take time,” he reassures me. “Try counting your exhales.”
“Ok,” I reply and return to focusing on my breaths.
As I breath out I count, making it to eight before another thought distracts me. What if I can never do this? Does it mean I’m broken?
“You were getting there, go back to counting,” Dad encourages me.
I go back to counting my breaths and make it to ten this time before the thoughts creep back in.
“Oy, I’m no good at this,” I groan feeling defeated.
“It’s your first time. No one can achieve deep meditation their first time,” he says. “It takes hard work and dedication to get there. Each time you practice you get a little closer to the goal. And besides, the journey is the most important part. You are actively clearing your mind and focusing. We will use that later and apply it to your gift.”
“I guess that makes sense. I just want to catch up with everyone else,” I explain.
“Everyone’s journey is different. You might be ahead of some and behind others. No two students move at the same pace in my class,” he explains.
“At least I have that going for me,” I yawn and check the time. It’s after ten already. How did that happen?
“How long were we meditating?” I ask.
“Almost two hours,” he grins. “See you were doing better than you thought.
“I’m going to bed,” I reply. “Thank you for helping me.”
“You’re welcome.” He grins.
I get ready for bed and fall into a deep sleep.
Chapter 8
The next morning I wake up refreshed. I haven’t slept that good in a while. Maybe meditation is helpful for more than just control. I hop in the shower and get ready for the day. I stand in front of the closet and evaluate my choices. I decide on a pair of dark skinny jeans and a black shirt with an alien and roses on it.
When I enter the living room, Dad is making breakfast.
“You don’t have to cook every morning. I’m fine with cereal,” I tell him.
“I want to do this,” he replies as he places a plate on the table. “Eat up.”
“Thanks,” I reply as I sit at the table.
I dig in then start working on my Math homework when I finish. By the time we are ready to leave, I’ve finished.
“You ready?” Dad asks as he grabs his keys from his pocket.
“As ready as I’m going to be,” I reply, hoping Becca leaves me alone.
We leave the apartment and head to the school.
“Don’t make plans after school today. We should pick out furniture for the new house,” Dad suggests.
“Are you sure you can afford to do all of this?” I ask.
“Let me worry about that. You worry about learning,” he chuckles. “You’re so much like your mother.”
“She always said I was like you,” I reply.
We pull up to the school and I head to my locker and dump off my things. We arrive early so I go to my first class, which is English, and find a seat in the back to wait for the day to start.
To kill time, I open up my notebook and start jotting my thoughts down, trying to make sense of them. By the time the class starts filling up, I’ve covered two pages full of random thoughts.
“Good morning, pretty lady,” Chance says as he sits at the desk next to me.
“Good morning,” I reply, flipping the page to hide my notes.
The morning flies by as I learn what I need to catch up with in English and History class, then it’s finally lunchtime.
I head to the cafeteria with the guys and opt for the salad bar today. I sit down then feel someone tap on my shoulder. I turn around and see the short, brunette from Understanding Auras class yesterday. What was her name again?
“Hey Tori,” Noah says, saving me.
“Hi,” she smiles. “Can I sit with you?”
“Sure,” I grin back. “There’s plenty of room.”
She sets her tray down and sits across from me. We dig into our food.
“So, where did you get your tattoos?” Tori asks.
“My Uncle Tony did this one,” I say, pointing to the heart on my upper arm. “And I did the rest.”
“That’s awesome. You’re a good artist,” she says. “I want a tattoo someday, but I want it to mean something.”
“Since they are permanent that is probably a good idea,” I reply. “I want to be a tattoo artist when I grow up.”
“I bet you would meet all kinds of interesting people doing that,” she says. “I want to be a teacher. To be able to help kids like us.”
“I want to work with CODA to rescue kids,” Tanner says between bites. “The way they rescued me after my parents were taken.”
“I want to take Vinco down,” Noah’s eyes grow dark. “We shouldn’t have to rescue anyone.”
“What about you?” I ask Chance.
“I have no idea what I want to do.” He shrugs. “I wanted to play in the NFL, but that doesn’t seem possible anymore.”
“You play football?” Tori asks. “Why don’t we have a team?”
“I don’t think sports are a priority,” Tanner says. “We don’t have art programs either.”
“It’s kind of sad though. Art is my favorite subject,” I offer. “Maybe we can see if they would be interested in offering after school programs. Like football and art.”
“That’s a good idea, but I don’t see them going for it.” Tori shrugs before switching topics.
“Thanks for letting me sit with you. I don’t really fit in here.”
“Why not?” I ask, giving her a puzzled look.
“I don’t know… I just don’t,” she replies, looking down at her hands before changing the subject. “They tend to keep all classes related to our abilities. Why would they spend money on something that doesn’t actually help us in that regard?”
“That’s ok. We can be misfits together,” I grin at her.
“I’d like that,” she smiles, her hazel eyes shining.
The bell rings so we head upstairs for our gifted classes for the day. The first one being Memory Eating.
“Why do we have a class on memory eating if we aren’t supposed to do it?” I ask.
“In case we ever need it, and it’s easier to control a gift if you understand how it works,” Chance explains. “We just learn theory in this class, we don’t get to try it for obvious reasons.”
I stop outside the classroom and glance around for prying ears before whispering to the guys, “Did you know the principal ate Becca’s memory of me?”
“I guessed when she came back and didn’t glare at you straight away,” Tanner nods.
We enter the classroom and take our seats while we wait for the teacher to arrive. A tall, thin, older man enters a short while later. He walks to his desk and sits down, steepling his hands together while looking at us.
"Today we are going to discuss why memory eating is wrong," he says. I glance at my schedule to find his name since he doesn't introduce himself. Mr. Thatcher it says next to Memory Eating. "Who can tell me the answer?"
Several hands go up and he calls on Tori.
"Memory eating is wrong because it erases a memory from the person. If the wrong memories are taken, it can change a person’s personality completely," she answers.
"Very good. Are there any other reasons?" he asks her.
"It's an invasion of privacy and it's cruel," she answers.
"Those are the basics. Now who can tell me when it would be appropriate to do?" he asks.
Tanner raises his hand and is called upon.
"If it's a life or death situation and it could save someone, it could be deemed appropriate. Also, CODA reserves the right to erase memories of the gifted if they violate certain rules," he answers.
"What rules could make that happen?" I ask.
"If someone tries to use memory eating in retaliation, that person could be wiped from their memory. If the person commits crimes against humanity, they can and have erased memories back to childhood," Mr. Thatcher answers.
"Wow!" I exclaim, my eyes opening wide. I can't imagine being an adult with no memories left. I hope that's reserved for only truly horrible people.
As class continues, Mr. Thatcher shows us examples of crimes that have been bad enough for CODA to step in. One woman was using her gift to steal and erase everyone's memories of her being there. After she robbed a bank of all of its cash assets CODA locked her up and erased her completely. Another example was a Memory Eater who ended up being a serial killer. The police couldn't catch him because he erased himself from their memories when he was caught.
I can agree with CODA's stance on punishment if these are the crimes they are taking care of. When class ends I have a new respect for the gift I have. No wonder Vinco captures us. It could be used in so many nefarious ways.
We make our way to the last class of the day. When I enter the classroom, my dad is sitting at his desk looking over something.
"Good afternoon," he says when he looks up.
"Good afternoon," I say back, unsure of what I'm supposed to call him here.
When the bell rings to start class, he stands up and walks in front of us.
"Today we are going to work on meditation again. Please move the chairs to the back and sides of the classroom and find a place on the floor to sit," he says.
We do as we're told and move the chairs and find our places. I know I won't be able to focus if I'm sitting next to the guys, so I move to the other side of the room. Tanner gives me a knowing look then winks. Ugh, this is going to be way harder to do in class than at home, and that wasn't easy.
"Who needs headphones?" my dad asks.
Several students raise their hands. I raise mine as well. Maybe if I have music in my ears it will be easier. Dad walks around and hands up headphones with little mp3 players. When I get mine, I look at the music list. It's the same stuff we were listening to last night.
I slip them on and start the music, adjusting the volume to where I can't hear anyone else then close my eyes. I breath in time with the beat, counting my breaths as I go. Every time a stray thought creeps in, I remember what Dad told me last night and just start again.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and open my eyes, wincing at the light until my eyes adjust. Class is over and I'm the only one left. Wow! I actually did it!
"That's impressive, Nikki. You didn't even hear the bell," Dad says when I take the headphones off.
"Am I supposed to feel any different? Because I don't," I ask.
"It's different for everyone. When you finally hit a deep meditative state, you might feel something, but until then it's all subjective," he answers. "Are you ready to help me pick out furniture?"
"I guess so. I just need to grab my things," I reply as I stand up and stretch.
I hand him back the mp3 player then he follows me out of the room and down to my locker. I get my things and we leave. On the way to the furniture store he puts on 90s music and sings along, loudly. I laugh, thinking back to my early childhood. He did this every time we went somewhere. I guess some things don't change.
We pull up in front of a large furniture store and head in. We make our way through the couches, into the dining area.
"We should get a larger table so we can have people over," he suggests. "Which one do you like?"
"Um, whatever you like," I reply, not really sure what would be good.
We walk through the tables until he finds a dark wooden one, with a bench on one side and chairs on the other three,
"Do you like this?" he asks.
"It looks nice," I reply. "But do you like it?"
"I do. We'll get this one then," he chuckles. "I want you to feel like this is your home too."
“When we find Mom, will I be able to move back in with her?” My brain starts working overtime. I know I need the protection CODA offers, but I need my mom more.
“Well… she would need to move here. I was hoping we could all live together. If your mom will have me back.” His eyes glass over as if he’s lost in a memory.
“It would be nice to be a family again.” I agree before he walks off.
He finds a sales associate and gets the table put on his order then we move back to the bedroom sets. There's a set with a black dresser and nightstand that calls to me. I walk over and run my hand across the wood of the nightstand. It has silver hardware and matches my aesthetic perfectly.
"Is that the one you want?" he asks.
"It is. I love it," I answer honestly. "I just wish it had a desk."
"We can order a matching desk," the salesman says from behind my dad. "That set has one."
"Let's do that then." My dad grins.
We follow the salesman back to a desk where he gets everything together for our purchases. Dad has everything set to be delivered on Saturday at the new house. We head back to the apartment. I wonder if I will ever think of the new house as being home? His apartment isn't.
He starts cooking while I sit at the table and work through my homework. By the time we eat, I've finished everything assigned. Maybe this won't be so bad after all.
Chapter 9
Friday flies by in a blur. Having all of my classes in one day makes everything blur together. After school I head home with Dad and we pack up the house, not that there's much to pack. The guys have agreed to come over tomorrow and help us move everything to the new house. By the time we finish, we order a pizza, watch a movie, then head to bed.
I wake up early Saturday morning, get dressed, pull my long hair back, and grab a pop tart. The guys arrive before I finish eating and we load the Uhaul when my dad gets back from picking it up. It doesn't take long and we are on our way to the new house, that I haven't gotten to see yet.
We pull up in front of a one story ranch style home with yellow vinyl siding. Dad gets out, props open the screen door, and unlocks the heavy wooden door. I walk into the large open concept living room. Dark hardwood floors cover the entire area, including the kitchen. There's granite countertops with stainless steel appliances and an island is all that separates the kitchen from the living area. A hallway branches off from the right with a door on either side, then it turns right with two more doors.
I open the first door on the left and find a large bathroom. The door on the right is a closet. The door at the end is a small bedroom. I turn down the hallway and the first door is the master bedroom with an en suite bathroom. I leave the doors open behind me and open the last door. It's another bedroom, slightly larger than the first.
"Which room is mine?" I turn around and find Dad watching me.
"Which one would you like?" he asks.
"The one at the end," I reply, loving the lighting. "It will be great for my art, when I get supplies to create again, that is."
"We can work on getting those when you get settled." He grins. "Let's get everything moved in. The furniture is supposed to arrive soon."
We work with Tanner, Chance, and Noah to unload the Uhaul. Once all of the boxes are unloaded, I move them into the rooms they belong in. Wanting to get everything put away as soon as possible.
"Take a break and lets feed these boys," my dad suggests when they unload the last of the furniture off of the Uhaul. No sooner than he says this, the furniture truck pulls up. "Or we can wait. Sorry about that." He rubs the back of his neck.
"No problem, Mr. Hoalt," Tanner says.
We stay out of the way while the delivery men move in the dining room and bedroom furniture then the guys follow us while we drop off the Uhaul.
"Where do you guys want to eat?" my dad asks when he is done in the office.
The Strange Existence of Krissy Nichole (The Memory Eater Chronicles Book 1) Page 6